


Let's Get Together

by Shatterpath



Series: First and Third [6]
Category: Agent Carter (Marvel Short Film), Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1940s, Bikinis, F/F, First Kiss, Rough Kissing, Secret Relationship, Subtext, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 17:52:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3456368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shatterpath/pseuds/Shatterpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Warm weather and an intimacy rapidly becoming unavoidable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired by the bikini bit at the end of the Agent Carter One Shot. This is my spin on it.
> 
> Desperate to get in a last piece in for Femslash February, I've been wracking my brain and suddenly remember the bit with Howard and Dugan and just let this piece pretty much write itself. There's more to this tale, but I'm finding myself in need of sleep, so you get chapter 1 now!

A very late heat wave was weighing the air down, a heavy, wet haze that made Peggy feel like she was going to melt into a puddle of treacle. Her autumnal coat felt like a wet wool blanket draped over her arm and her suit-- while thankfully not wool quite this early in the season-- was still a heavy linen weave. The dark blue was not helping matters any. 

Apparently, she should have indeed listened to Angie and taken the day off.

The big house that had become home swallowed her up away from the sunshine and Peggy breathed deeply in relief. Every window was open, letting in what breeze there was and voices trickled in from the backyard. Peggy gratefully toed off her shoes, grateful that she'd forgone stockings that morning. Rubbing the arch of her foot earned a hiss, but it felt good nonetheless. 

"Angie, darling?"

The endearment just slipped out, making Peggy blush and listen pensively for an answer. There was nothing and she kicked her shoes beneath the entry hall bench before padding silently to her room at the north end. It wasn't the largest of the excessive collection of bedrooms, but she'd been happy to leave the master suite to Angie's clear delight with it. The smaller room was a bit isolated, away from the indistinct thrum of highway noise, a retreat for her to regroup in. Even those windows were open, the voices even less distinct now. It was a pleasure to strip to her skivvies, but after a longing look at the shower, Peggy decided to wait until it cooled in the evening. In the meantime, she slipped into lightweight slacks and a blouse in shades of ivory and champagne to combat the weather.

"Much better," she murmured and retraced her steps on wickedly bare feet while pulling her hair into a ponytail. There were glasses on the counter of the extensive bar that-- of course-- was on the property, and various bottles of alcohol stood in disarray. Feminine laughter drew her attention to the open doors to the backyard and she drank in the soothing sound and the hint of approaching coolness on the sudden light breeze. 

"Peggy!"

Startled, she couldn't contain her grin as an unexpected and welcome sight greeted her. The incongruous sight of Timothy Dugan in a fancy dressing gown and a more formal version of his eternal bowler hat. He too was barefoot to soak up the last bit of summery weather before New York was locked into fall and winter.

"Timothy," she murmured happily as he went so far as to scoop her into a crushing bear hug, a familiarity she would have never allowed in the field. "You've arrived early. How have you been?"

"Yeah, Howard had a plane coming in from Paris, so I hopped aboard. Thanks for puttin' me up here."

"My pleasure. Really, Angie and I rattle about this place like loose bullets in a ammunition box."

Out in the sunshine once more, now at Dugan's side, Peggy halted in shock at the tableau. It wasn't the sight of Howard, dressed similarly to Dugan, or the gauzy fabrics artfully draped over the outdoor furniture about the pool, but the collection of a full five women lounging about. Five very scantily clad women, Peggy noted distantly, including her very own Angie, who lit up with delight. If not for the sturdy, bright materials and wider shoulder straps of the brief tops, she would have sworn the whole lot of them were in nothing more than their underthings.

"It's called a bikini," Dugan stage whispered, half amused and half leering, earning a reflexive backhanded slap to the chest that made him belly laugh.

"Hey English, come join us! We're practicing being glamorous while it's still warm!"

Shooting Howard a irritated and faintly desperate look, Peggy hesitated, but couldn't bear disappointing Angie. Still, she dragged her feet, distracted by the startling lack of dress.

"Girls, this my boss and best friend I've been talking about. Isn't she gorgeous?"

It was like being dropped into the middle of a movie set with no script and Peggy had to shake off her shock or risk looking like the worst spy on the planet.

"You flatter me, Angie," she smiled and the strangers all cooed over her accent, not the first time that particular bit of amusement had visited Peggy. She allowed Angie to pull her into a lounge chair evacuated by one of the bunnies and the smaller woman cuddled up with that same arm. It turned out the other women had befriended Angie through many a frustrating audition and had taken up the impulsive invitation to invade the house. Or the backyard anyway. Peggy trusted that Angie's SHIELD training had sunk in enough for her to have kept an eye out on her guests while in the house. Filing away their names, Peggy firmly set her paranoia level at a medium simmer and gratefully accepted a tall glass of lemonade that appeared in Dugan's big ham hand.

"You're a lifesaver, Timothy."

"Any time, Peggy. Anyone for a swim?"

In a tank top and loose shorts, the big man made a production of splashing into the crystal clear water, earning squeals and laughter from the visitors.

"Sorry about the chaos, Peggy," Angie breathed into her ear, causing the most distracting twitches all the way down Peggy's spine. "It's just such a gorgeous day, dontcha think? Had to soak it up."

"I see that," Peggy murmured, tracing a fingertip over Angie's thigh. "You've gotten quite sunburned."

"It'll fade. Pretty soon I'll be my pasty white self again for winter. I don't get to keep any color like you do."

"Random genetics, darling."

Suddenly, Peggy was quite warm, even with the umbrella overhead keeping away much of the sunshine. Clearing her throat, she gestured at the scanty two piece garment leaving far more of Angie exposed than she'd ever seen before.

"A bikini, Dugan tells me?"

"Yeah, Howard had them flown in from Paris, the letch," Angie giggled. "But he has a point that I'd better get used to showing a little skin for roles. A little liquid courage and here I am!"

A hard swallow of the lemonade almost made Peggy choke at the half-hidden bite of liquor. "Timothy Dugan, you ox! You spiked my drink!"

Pausing in his boyish flirting with one of Angie's friends, he reached up as though to tip the bowler that was nearly always there. "You're welcome."

"Is that why they call him Dum Dum?" Angie asked with a devilish smirk that made Peggy laugh, clearing the thick atmosphere between them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention in the first chapter my congratulations for the cheeky little historical nibblet of information that clearly led to the skit that inspired this fic. An interesting read in Wikipedia, the bikini! The garment was a big hit in France, but was considered scandalous at best for many years. However, Howard would have gotten his paws on them, because, hello, he's Howard. Frankly, I'm shocked it took him three months.
> 
> So thank you, Monsieur Reard and the writers of the delightful little snippet at the tail end of the Agent Carter one shot for the fun had here.

Something had shifted, evidenced by Peggy's wandering gaze, by the way Angie stuck to her, friendly and teasing. Dinner was an early and informal affair catered in from a local restaurant happy to accommodate whatever monies Howard had waved at them. But once dusk began to gather and the gentle breeze began turning to a brisk wind, Peggy was more than happy to turn out the guests. As usual, Howard had charmed one of the girls and another seemed more than willing to welcome a famous soldier in fine fashion and Peggy shooed Dugan off to enjoy himself in whatever den of sin Howard dragged him off to. The other girls were fine with a cab and the house fell into blissful quiet once more.

It was a weary task to close the place up, but the wind was growing cool. Cleaning up could wait until tomorrow, right now Peggy just wanted a long, hot shower and as many hours of sleep as her always busy mind would allow. Angie had vanished to close up the other half of the house, but her bedroom light blazed through the seams around the door into the dim hallway. Strangely missing the younger woman and all of her warm attentions made Peggy feel off kilter and overheated again.

The tickle of fancy couldn't happen. It was dangerous and stupid and unspeakably foolish. That didn't stop the heat and curiosity, making Peggy stifle a groan and hurrying her off to shower. While the gigantic house was completely ridiculous for two people, the endless supply of hot water, the full kitchen and bar and various other treats such as the pool and peace and quiet were luxuries that had quickly spoiled them both.

Stripping in her bathroom, Peggy eyed her voluptuous frame critically, fighting the urge to see only the flaws. The scars, the soft padding that so effectively hid the hard, wiry muscle she relied on so often, the broad shoulders and heavy breasts, strong hips, the angular, expressive face she had looked at in the mirror all of her days. No waifish, fluttering, girlish thing was Peggy Carter, a tough girl made hard by war and far too many losses.

Still, there was no denying the beauty of her birthright, the stamp of her ancestry in every line and curve and yes, even the scars. Her homeland had shaped her like water conformed to a vessel, her parents and grandparents and aunts and uncles stared back at her through her dark eyes, strangely comforting to a soul forever restless and displaced.

"You've gotten far too dramatic, Margaret," Peggy teased her reflection wryly and the melancholy quirk of smile spoke volumes. 

Cascades of blissfully hot water and the relative safety of the big house let Peggy lower the constant flame of the vigilance that kept her alive so often to a low simmer and she let her mind drift for a long while in the luxury. But at last it was time to gather her wits once more and leave the haven of her shower and face the quiet of the night. Drying off, she habitually slipped into a robe and stepped into her room, toweling her sodden hair.

Only to stop in her tracks.

There were not a lot of people who could get the drop on Peggy, but somehow the scamp kept doing it.

"Hey there, English," Angie smirked where she was sprawled out on Peggy's bed, propped up on her elbows, wearing something even skimpier than the earlier brief apparel. "I was wonderin' if I could get your opinion on something."

Frozen for a very long moment at the playfully seductive vision Angie made amidst her rumpled sheets with soft jazz playing in the background, Peggy nodded wordlessly. Standing gracefully, Angie padded over on bare feet, standing so close, Peggy felt the irrational urge to step back.

"See, I like the first suit I was wearing, but this color is so nice. Pretty daring though, right?"

It was certainly that, little more than fabric cups cradling her breasts and a V of fabric arrowing down her flat belly, the whole thing held together with very thin straps. The scandalous bareness of Angie's sternum, the shape of her hips a gentle tease beneath her pale skin, the dimple of her navel, it was all quite overpowering.

Some dispassionate part of Peggy noted that she was acting like an idiot, her eyes dropping to soak up the details of the brief costume before jerking back up to the warm, sweetly amused gaze.

"Softer too. Bet it's real silk. No swimming in this one."

Peggy allowed Angie to grasp her calloused fingers, draw them up to rest on narrow hips where the young woman's skin was even silkier than the fabric where Peggy's fingertips brushed the back panel, her thumb the narrow strap. She barely noted the soft blue material, too caught up in Angie's body heat and the softness of her skin.

"See, I trust your opinion on things, more than anyone I've ever known, right from the get go."

Hypnotized by the heat and the bubble of quiet intimacy, Peggy didn't fight stepping into the pressure of slender arms draping around her shoulders, their bodies automatically swaying to the music. All she could do was nod, throat tight, the faint prick of tears in her eyes at the daring of this sweet, brave, constant surprise to her life.

"I love being your friend and sidekick, but I can't help but feel like there's even more going on, y'know? But whatever the answer, yes or no, I just love ya to pieces, Peg."

Sniffling, Peggy wrapped her in a crushing hug, soaking up the squeak and the faint chuckle, the grip returned willingly. "Love you too. You've saved my sanity more often than you'll ever know."

"Good. Feelin' brave?"

It was the first time all day she'd sounded unsure and that cracked loose some final barrier in Peggy's mind. It was unorthodox, foolish, even dangerous, this thing between them. But when the hell had that ever stopped her? She'd done far more foolish and dangerous and certainly more secretive.

"Yes," was all the answer needed and there was little hesitation in the touch of lips, eyes closed, caught up in the feel of the other, the smell and sound, both familiar and new. With that first quiet touch, permission was given and traded, the kiss gone abruptly ravenous; hot, wet and in harmony with grasping hands, locked into soft fabrics rather than wander and distract. Unpainted, unvarnished, they met this way free of the faces they wore for the outside world, scrubbed away in the heat of water and soap still clinging to their skins.

It was blissful and honest and so very welcome.

Eventually they started to untangle with lingering strokes of wet tongues, rough-gentle suckling at lips, harsh breathing beginning to settle, grasping hands gentling into shy strokes over warm skin. Blinking in hazy bewilderment, Peggy opened her eyes to watch the glittering blue gaze and the slow, dirty smile.

"Damn, Peggy, remind me to thank Howard for his little shopping trip to Paris."

The inelegant snort of laughter escaped Peggy before she could contain it and they were both suddenly howling with laughter. Trembling with outburst and things still burning hot between them, the women stumbled to the bed to collapse and laugh themselves out. Pleasantly exhausted, they eventually stilled, happiness and shyness playing between them like the fingertips they had unconsciously intertwined. Angie's giggling tapered off as Peggy half sat up to loom over her, the press of that surprisingly strong body exquisite. With sodden hair black and wild around her strong, scrubbed face and her expressive eyes dark and adoring and sweet, had Peggy ever looked more beautiful?

"Here, alone like this, I wanna be your girl, Peggy Carter."

"Yes. And I yours."

It would be enough.


End file.
